


Fix It

by dreamofflight



Series: Breaking Up is Hard to Do [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Break Up, Chatting & Messaging, Drunk Texting, Eventual Happy Ending, Feels, Fix It Fic, M/M, Slow Build, Texting, im conversation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-09-21
Packaged: 2017-12-16 06:51:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamofflight/pseuds/dreamofflight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a fix it fic for a few friends, written as a sequel to my Break up Short.</p><p>Derek breaks up with Stiles so that he's free to go off to college and be a freshman, without anything tying him down. Stiles hates him for it. This is the aftermath, and the slow build back towards friendship, and maybe something more.</p><p>This is not beta'd. At all. I do not own Teen Wolf or the characters within.<br/>Notes: This is canon divergent. In my world Erica and Boyd don’t die, Jennifer never happened, and Cora’s a lesbian. If you don’t like that, don’t read it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [romans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/romans/gifts), [freezepopsandoom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/freezepopsandoom/gifts).



Stiles left Derek’s life quietly; or as quietly as someone filled with self-righteous fury can leave.

The slam of the screen door as Stiles followed him back inside after a long frozen moment, the shouting as he left, the roar of the Jeep’s engine; none of it made Derek flinch a muscle. He could take it. After all, he had asked for it, forced Stiles’ hand in a way that gave no quarter.

It was the silence though, that got to Derek; because as loudly as Stiles left, that’s how quiet it was afterward.

And the silence screamed at him.

It shouted when Derek turned over in the middle of the night and the other side of the bed was cool, the human warm scent long faded to nothing more than a memory.

It yelled at him every time he laughed at something the pack did, and turned to share the joke with Stiles- but Stiles wasn’t there. The joke fell flat, and Derek felt emptier and emptier.

It shrieked in the morning, as dawn filtered hazy and light through the drapes, the smell of pancakes drifting up from the kitchen. The maple syrup dragged him with sticky fingers out of bed, hope leapt and fluttered in his chest that it was Stiles, home on break and making breakfast for the pack.

It died soundlessly when he saw it was just Isaac, flipping a perfect golden brown circle on the griddle.

Stiles left with a bellow, but the silent after math was what pierced Derek’s ears every second of every day.

-

It was three months to the day when he finally caved, and snuck onto Scott’s laptop when his Betas were off on a food run. It was easy to hack into Scott’s Facebook, after all, the only change to the password had been changing a few of the letters to numbers. All1s0n wasn’t exactly a genius move on Scott’s part, but Derek thanked him for his trusting nature under his breath all the same.

Navigating to Stiles’ page was also easy enough, but the second it loaded, it all hit Derek hard, a semi-truck barreling a hole through his chest. The profile picture Stiles had chosen kind of took Derek’s breath away, even though he didn’t want to admit it. Stiles’ hair was still grown out, but he’d gotten glasses. They were the geeky kind, rimmed in thick black plastic. They suited him, Derek noted, as heat curled in his stomach. Derek scrolled down Stiles’ wall, feeling his chest tighten at all the little notes, the exchanges between Stiles and other people. Boy, girl, it didn’t matter. It all hurt. Every flirtation, every declaration of some event having been “the best party EVER!” was a punch to the gut.

He knew he should stop; it was beyond creepy to go through your ex’s Facebook, look at what they were up to now. Derek couldn’t though, his finger just kept scrolling, clicking, and before he knew it he had gone back through all of Stiles’ wall posts, and viewed all of the photos he’d put up, including the ones other people had put up and he’d just been ‘tagged’ in. Tagging. That was just stupid. Derek froze when he came to a picture of Stiles and a gorgeous blonde girl, a girl who reminded him of Lydia actually. They were kissing and Stiles had his eyes closed, the hint of a smile on his lips proving it wasn’t a spontaneous thing. Derek felt sick to his stomach.

“We’re back! Come help us with groceries, dude!”

Scott’s voice pulled Derek out of his reverie, and he quickly shut down the window before closing the laptop as quietly as possible. Snooping around Stiles’ page was one thing. It was a whole other thing to be caught doing it.

“Derek? Are you here?” Scott came around the corner and stopped, the confusion on his face as adorable as ever. Derek straightened up from the kitchen counter and cleared his throat, nodding at the laptop.

“Was just checking my email. That okay?”

“Oh. Yeah! Yeah, it’s cool Derek,” Scott said with a lop-sided smile, the pair of them walking back out to the car where Isaac was waiting. “I didn’t even know you had an email.”

“Scott, I’m 27, not 70,” Derek sighed, taking the bags from Isaac with a shared eye roll. Scott could only smile sheepishly before taking his share of the bags, and trundling along behind Derek back into the house.

Everything was rebuilt thanks to the pack’s persistence, the money from over 10 different life insurance claims, and Peter’s strange architectural sense. There were enough vaulted ceiling bedrooms and steel and glass bathrooms now for the entire pack two times over, plus a professionally installed sprinkler system (‘Just in case,’ Peter had said with a shrug. Derek couldn’t tell if he was smug or sad, or a bizarre mixture of both.). The wrap around porch was decorated with jack-o-lanterns (idea courtesy of Erica) for Halloween, which was fast approaching, even though Derek knew they wouldn’t get a single trick-or-treater with how far in the woods they were. Isaac said that it didn’t matter, and Scott had agreed, putting his single toothed pumpkin up for display next to Erica and Boyd’s own with a grin.

Derek got lost in memories often, since Stiles left for school, and the rest of the pack didn’t have the heart to point it out every time it happened. They only spoke up when the look on Derek’s face shifted, when his hazel eyes looked glassy and wet, and his hands clenched to the point of white knuckles.

“Derek?”

“What?” He snapped awake, thoughts gone in the next instant, a puff of smoke that dissipated so he could finally see through to the present.

“I asked if you wanted me to make steaks for dinner,” Boyd said slowly, hesitating to put the tray of steaks away in the fridge. Derek nodded quickly, frowning, and pushed away from the counter he’d been leaning against.

“Yeah..yeah that’s fine Boyd. I’m-,” Derek licked his lips and looked up at his Betas. Scott, Isaac, Erica and Boyd were all watching him, eyes soft and mouths closed. Their pity stung.

“I’m going to go for a run. I’ll be back later,” he grunted, and left without another word.

-

Running usually helped. It made him focus on his body, on the pumping of his legs, the muscles working in perfect unison to propel him forward. There was a high that came with it, a ‘runner’s high’ that people always talked about, but Derek was pretty sure no one got to the level he got it. When you were running as a wolf, streaking through the forest on huge clawed paws, the world a veritable buffet of smells and sights and sounds before you, nothing could hope to compare.

He ran for an hour before he tired of it, and came loping slowly toward the back porch where he’d left his clothing, stopping at the edge of the woods when he heard raised voices inside the house.

“I’m not saying that he’s broken Scott-“

It was Isaac’s voice, tense and angry. Derek paused.

“That’s exactly what you’re saying! You’re telling me that Derek hasn’t tried to get us to do anything for the last three months. And I’m saying I agree. He’s not okay, you guys. He’s, he’s-“

“Heartbroken.”

That was Boyd, finishing Scott’s sentence for him, ever the stoic and succinct one of the group. Derek could feel bile rise in the back of his throat. Even Boyd thought he was damaged.

He changed quickly, striding up to the porch and throwing his clothes on, not bothering to be stealthy about it. It would be better if they could pretend they hadn’t just been discussing how wounded and heartbroken their Alpha was. For everyone involved.

“Dinner ready?” he asked curtly as he walked in through the back door, muddy feet having been cleaned off in the wet-room that Peter has insisted they build (and Derek begrudgingly acknowledged was a good idea after the first pack run had been interrupted by a downpour).

Boyd nodded stiffly as Erica looked on from behind him, red lips pulled down in a slight frown.

“Just about.”

“Good. I’m going to go shower. After dinner we’re going to train,” Derek said over his shoulder, not bothering to look back, “so be ready.”

He left them in the kitchen, staring at one another in shock.

-

Things improved slowly but surely from there; Derek got back into the swing of things, daily trainings and sparrings happened once more, and he even caught up with the rest of the world and got a Facebook after the third time of checking up on Stiles on Scott’s computer, and having the Beta catch him.

“Just get a Facebook Derek. It’s not going to kill you to catch up with people,” Scott said, shoving the laptop over to Derek, where Facebook was asking him to Log in or Sign up, all too cheerfully.

“What if I don’t want to,” Derek grumbled, already typing away, his information entered into the little boxes easily enough.

Scott just smirked at him, the little asshole.

-

Facebook was a strange, strange thing to step into, after not being up to date with things online since before he left Beacon Hills for New York; since before the fire. Derek ended up with a handful of friends; Scott, Isaac, Erica, Boyd, and Peter, strangely enough, along with a few acquaintances that still wanted to speak to him from High School, and a couple of people he’d made quasi-friendships with while he’d been in New York. His friend count was pathetic by most people’s standards, but Derek was just impressed that he had over a dozen people willing to actually add him to their own lists.

It had been years since he’d last been able to count the number of people that cared even that much on more than just his two hands.

Scott had gone down to visit Stiles for Halloween, something about a giant party hosted by one of the nicer frat houses, and the pictures were uploaded onto Facebook almost instantly. So while he and Stiles weren’t friends on Facebook, Derek could still see most everything, at least the stuff that Scott was tagged in.

Scott had ended up dressing up as the kid from that horrible 80s movie, Teen Wolf. Derek snorted at the utter irony of it, before realizing that it wasn’t really irony, just Scott’s warped sense of humor. Of course he’d pick the most obvious, clichéd thing to dress up as for Halloween, as an actual werewolf. Stiles’ costume wasn’t much better, as far as clichés go, but Derek had to admit that he looked good. Stiles had grown a little more, his jawline was sharper, his hair shaggy beneath the over-sized hat that he’d pulled down over his forehead. He’d picked Indiana Jones, and the open button up shirt looked wonderful, tiny bits of hair peeking out under the fabric. Derek stamped down on the curl of arousal that came up inside of him, and clicked on through to the next picture.

He immediately regretted it when he realized that it was Stiles, doing a keg stand, and his shirt had fall up towards his head, allowing Derek a view of most of his torso. Stiles had been working out, that much was obvious.

Most of the pictures were harmless, just groups of teenagers in ill-fitting cheap costumes, girls in skimpy outfits that were basically an excuse to show off as much T&A as possible, and jocks who were zombified versions of whatever their sport was. He’d never seen so many zombie football players in one picture before.

Derek sighed as he clicked out of the photo album and went back to his newsfeed, which was a ridiculous name for something that hardly updated. He suspected it had to do with only having 14 friends. Boyd, Erica and Isaac were gone to party hosted by another Beacon Hill alumni that had hung around, and Peter had disappeared a few days before Scott had left, not even bothering to give Derek an excuse for leaving this time around. Everyone was off at a party but him. He frowned and clicked back onto Scott’s profile, navigating his way to Stiles’ own, like he’d done a dozen times in the past hour, despite the fact that he never did anything with it. There was a button there, one he longed to push, to open the line of communication between him and Stiles again. But as much as he missed the goofy, awkward teenager, he couldn’t bring himself to take that first step. The likelihood of rejection was too high, and Derek wasn’t sure if he could take another ‘fuck off!’ from Stiles, even in the form of being blocked on Facebook, of all places.

He sighed and clicked away, about to close the page and go for another moonlit run, when a little red 1 popped up at the top of the screen, something he’d come to realize meant he had a friend request. Curiosity gets the better of him, and he clicked, only to have his breath catch in his throat.

It was Stiles. Stiles had actually requested him as a friend. Stiles wanted to be his friend. Derek did not bite his lower lip and make a sound like a teenage girl with a crush. He didn’t. At all. He did accept though, as fast as he could mash the button on the laptop.

Then a conversation bubble popped up in the lower right hand corner of his screen, and Derek jolted in surprise, his heart now tripping over itself, double time in his chest to make up for stuttering to an almost halt before.

 **Stiles Stilinski** : hey that was fast!!!1  
 **Derek Hale** : What are you talking about Stiles?  
 **Stiles Stilinski** : you accetpted my friend requasr super fast!11  
 **Derek Hale** : Stiles, are you drunk?  
 **Stiles Silinski** : as a skunkk!

Derek felt his heart sink. Of course. Stiles had only friended him because he was drunk, and maybe feeling nostalgic. Or maybe angry. Perhaps both.

 **Stiles Stilinski** : hey alpha wolf! did you see teh picx of me n scott at the partty?  
 **Derek Hale** : I saw a few of them.  
 **Stiles Stilinski** : liar I bet you looked at all of em. scott tol me youre said were not togthe anymore and I know you gt sad when youre alonnee to much.  
 **Derek Hale** : I’m fine Stiles. How much did you have to drink? Are you safe where you are?  
 **Stiles Stilinski** : stop motherin me derek!!! fuckk  yur not evn here and all you can do ie tell me im makinn bad decisoins. Stoopppppppp :Pp God I hatee u!

Derek tried not to let the drunken ramblings sting. It didn’t work.  
  
 **Derek Hale** : You’re going to regret this in the morning when you wake up with a hang over the size of that stupid hat.  
 **Stiles Stilinski** : HAHHHHHH you did lok1  
 **Derek Hale** : Maybe I did. The hat’s still stupid.  
 **Stiles Stilinski** : whatever you love it!!!!!!!  
 **Derek Hale** : No way.  
 **Stiles Stilinski** : well you love me!!!  
 **Stiles Stilinski** : derek?  
 **Derek Hale** : Maybe I do.  
 _Stiles Stilinski is unavailable._

Derek finally let out the breath that he had been holding almost the whole time they’d been talking, shoulders slumping down as he realized he may have just pushed things too far.

He went to bed that night with his own laptop set up on his bed side table, the chat window to Stiles still open, just waiting for him to come back online.

Derek woke up to a single message from Stiles.

 **Stiles Stilinski** : oh god dude I’m so sorry, I was so drunk last night I don’t remember any of it! Let’s just call last night a wash, because I’m pretty sure we both said stuff neither of us meant. How are you though? Scott seems pretty good, so you’re not failing as an Alpha completely anymore! ;) I’ll see you later, have class at 8!

Derek counted it as a win, because while Stiles didn’t want to admit what had happened between them last night had actually happened, he didn’t unfriend Derek either. He floated through the rest of the day.


	2. Chapter 2

It went like that from day to day; Derek would wake up, and like a junkie needing his fix to feel right, immediately check his Facebook. He stopped being annoyed when Scott teased him about it after the fifth time, because even he had to acknowledge he had a bit of an obsession.

“Dude, Derek, this isn’t healthy.”

Derek looked up slowly from his screen, where he had been busy wandering around Stiles’ farm, watering his dying strawberry plants.

“What?” he said innocently. Scott pressed his lips together and sighed.

“This! This thing you’re doing, where all you do is sit here and wait for him to come online!”

Derek closed out of the window and shut the laptop with a stern click, turning angry eyes on Scott, who withered under his gaze, much like Stiles’ strawberries had been.

“I’m not doing anything, Scott. We’re just…friends. I’m just being his friend.”

Scott snorted at that and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Right.”

“Scott, don’t test me. We’re just friends,” Derek growled, setting the laptop down as he moved with purpose toward the kitchen. Boyd was cooking this morning, which meant eggs and bacon, with a side of cinnamon raisin toast specifically for Erica. Derek had woken up half an hour ago to the sizzle and pop of the bacon grease in the pan, but he’d been stuck on Facebook ever since. Scott trailed after him, hands shoved in the pockets of his sweater as he shrugged helplessly.

“I know, Derek, but-“ he cut off at the look Boyd gave him, the minute shake of his head giving Scott pause.

“But what, Scott?” Derek asked, turning around with a glass of orange juice in one hand, the other putting the jug away. No pulp, just the way he, and no one else in the pack, liked it. Derek figured they could buy their own juice, if they wanted disgusting pulp that badly.

“Nothing, never mind. I just- no, never mind Derek. Um, what are we doing today?” Scott leaned on the counter, reaching over to pluck a piece of bacon from the still growing pile, grinning sheepishly at Boyd’s warning growl.

“Derek said we were going to the movies yesterday,” Isaac said as he walked into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Of the four of them, Isaac was the one who had been happiest to stay, basking in the attention of the make-shift family that Derek had assembled.

“I did. That was before I realized just how lazy all of you are,” Derek remarked, gesturing at Isaac, who had slumped down on the stool next to Scott, head pillowed on his arms.

“Derek,” Isaac whined, “it’s November. Thanksgiving is soon, and school is letting out today. This’ll be the last chance we have with just us, before Stiles and Lydia and Cora get home.”

Scott nodded and Boyd shrugged, but Erica piped up as she came around the corner, a billow of soft floral scent coming with her as she combed through still wet-out-of-the-shower hair.

“It doesn’t matter to me if they’re here or not…they’re family too, right?” she said as she walked over to wrap her arms around Boyd’s waist and press a friendly good morning kiss to his cheek. Boyd smiled, looking up from his perfect, fluffy scrambled eggs at Derek. Derek nodded in agreement, ignoring the pout on Isaac’s face.

“Hey, just because you asked Cora out after Derek said not to,” Scott said teasingly, poking Isaac in the ribs to make the taller Beta squirm.

“H-hey! How was I supposed to know she was gay?! I thought it was just Derek being his usual, over-protective Alpha self,” Isaac said, batting half-heartedly at Scott’s prodding fingers, the smile on his face indulgent. Scott grinned even wider and laughed as Derek narrowed his eyes at Isaac.

“Yes, and thanks to you, Isaac, now Cora feels awkward in her own home. Good job,” he drawled, and was satisfied to see Isaac look a little cowed, guilty even, by his words.

“So? It’s not like you aren’t making someone nervous to come home too, you know.”

Derek looked up from the newspaper at that, eyes wide and then narrowed to slits.

“What?”

Isaac swallowed, while Scott looked down at his hands, thumb picking at a cuticle. Boyd rolled his eyes and turned off the burners, scooping all the eggs into a pile on a second plate.

“Food’s ready,” Boyd said as he set the pan aside, moving to wash his hands. Derek looked from Isaac to Scott and back again.

“Is one of you going to tell me what that means, or am I going to have to make you?”

The running water was the only sound for a moment, but when Boyd turned the faucet off with a squeak, it was as if another faucet turned on, a pair of them in the form of Scott and Isaac’s mouths.

“I didn’t mean to-“ “It’s just that Stiles isn’t really over-“ “It’s not hard to tell he gets really excited about-“ “Thanksgiving is going to be big, and Stiles still isn’t sure about coming home-“ “and it’s not like you don’t already KNOW this-“ “but you’ve got to understand, Derek-“ “you just come on strong sometimes!” “you’re sending seriously mixed signals.”

Derek blinked at the pair of Betas, his Betas, and sighed heavily.

“You’re both fired.”

“What? Fired? Fired from what?”

“From life- what do you think, Scott?! Just, stop…trying to help, okay? We’re figuring it out on our own,” Derek grumbled, setting his plate down on the table a bit harder than he needed to. Isaac jumped. Derek felt guilty (but just a little bit). Scott still didn’t look perturbed in the slightest.

“Derek,” Boyd said slowly, treading carefully as he sat down in the seat to Derek’s left, his own plate just as full of delicious breakfast foods as Derek’s was. Erica finished his sentence for him, after swallowing a bite of buttery toast. “They’re just trying to help, even if they’re doing a crappy job of it,” she said softly, wiping at the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand.

Derek frowned at his steaming food, and Boyd couldn’t stop the smile that came to his lips.

“Stiles will be here. I promise. You just need to ease up a little. It’s only been three weeks since you two started talking again. Give him some time.”

Derek sighed and slumped back in his chair. “I know.”

“Do you though?” Erica asked, sitting down on the edge of the table to look down at Derek. “Look, I know you want Stiles back, but…it’s going to take time. You really hurt him Derek. It’s only like four months since that happened. He hasn’t even really started seeing other people,” she said with a shrug, “and isn’t that what you wanted? For him to have his freedom?”

Derek felt guilt settle in on him, perching heavy on his shoulders.

“Yeah.”

Boyd nodded solemnly. “Then give it to him. Let him have his freedom, and if he wants you the way you want him, he’ll be back.”

Erica grinned at Boyd’s words, “Well said cutie,” she said, laughing when Boyd seemed to visibly glow at the praise.

Derek wasn’t sure he deserved to have Stiles back after what he’d done, no matter how stubbornly, stupidly noble his intentions had been when he’d done it. He’d still broken Stiles’ heart, and stepping outside of his own selfish reasons for wanting Stiles back in his life, he could still see where Stiles taking him back would be a foolish thing for him to do.

He nodded once, a silent thank you to his Betas for their advice, and then looked up from his food again.

“Isaac?”

“uh, yeah?”

Derek sighed.

“…What did you want to see this time?” Derek asked, picking his fork up again and beginning to shovel eggs into his mouth. Isaac beamed.

They ended up seeing Wreck-It Ralph, which Derek went into grumbling and frowning, because Scott’s comparison of him to Ralph was just unfounded and completely unfair. He came out smiling smugly to himself, and trying not to get too excited when the Betas behind him kept going on and on about how cool the movie turned out being, and the parallels between Scott and Felix and Allison and Calhoun were just unbelievable. They ended up stopping at the grocery store on the way home, each of them craving candy for some reason.

In between sips of overly sugary soda and bites of red vines, Derek managed to send Stiles a text.

 **Sour Wolf** : Wreck-It Ralph was surprisingly enjoyable.

Stiles replied an hour later, and Derek realized with a flush that he hadn’t changed Stiles’ nickname in his phone since their breakup.

 **Sugarbottom** : I knew you’d like it. Why do you think I recommended it to Scott for your next pack movie night? You’re so Ralph.

 **SourWolf** : You’re dead Stiles.

 **Sugarbottom** : :P at least I didn’t say you should see breaking dawn part 2.

 **SourWolf** : …touché.

Derek can’t even mind when they tease him for the goofy smile on his face. Things were going so well between him and Stiles, he couldn’t be bothered.

-

Things weren’t going well.

They’d ended up talking almost every day, but only a few days before Stiles was set to come home for Thanksgiving, they ended up having a fight. It was about something stupid, as it always was with them, and Derek couldn’t even remember what had pushed his buttons so much the next day. All he knew was that he wasn’t sure if Stiles would be there for the feast they’d been planning all week, and it made his chest tight in an extremely unpleasant way.

When Thanksgiving rolled around though, it saw the pack back together, gathered around the enormous heavy oak table in the dining room at the Hale house. Everyone was there, from Derek, Cora and the Betas, on down to Stiles and his Dad, Lydia and even Melissa McCall. Allison and Chris were the last of the bunch, and probably the most uncomfortable people in the entire room.

The only thing missing, of course, was the power.

The lights had gone out just as they’d started passing around the multitude of bowls and trays, and Derek cursed under his breath when he realized that he hadn’t gotten the generator hooked up just yet. The storm that was raging outside was abnormal for the usually mild fall days of late November; winter storms didn’t usually hit until late December in their area of California.

“Calm down, everyone! Just calm down,” John called out over the frenzied noises that filled the suddenly small space.

“Derek, do we have candles?” John asked, turning his gaze in the direction that he had last seen Derek. Seconds later a small bright white screen came to life, instantly followed by another, and then another. Lydia smiled a smug half-smile in the dark, shrugged at her own brilliance as Scott praised her for the idea.

“We can use our phones for now. Derek, did you put the candles in the pantry like I told you to?” Lydia stood up from the table, walking around it, a pale vision in the dark room. Derek nodded, speechless, and she hummed as she walked through the swinging door toward the kitchen. Derek, Stiles, Allison and Scott followed, Isaac trailing close behind.

“Alright everyone, we each get a candle, and then we spread out. I know there were emergency lanterns in the basement last time I was here; battery powered ones, next to the camping gear, right?” Lydia tossed her curls over her shoulder as she looked back at Derek, who was holding his phone up to light the pantry for her. She grinned as she found the box of candles, the matches conveniently set right beside them.

“Perfect,” Lydia said, as she came out of the pantry victorious. “Scott, you, Allison and Isaac take these and find candle holders, search upstairs. There’s bound to be some up there in the bedrooms, knowing Erica.”

“I heard that!” came Erica’s protest from the other room, but she didn’t actually argue with Lydia’s assessment.

Derek set his phone down on the counter and turned to Lydia, who was lighting the matches and candles with ease, handing them off one by one, until it was just him, Stiles, and Lydia left in the room.

“I’m going to search for more candle holders. You two should go find those lanterns. I’m not going down those stairs in the dark. Not in these heels.” Stiles rolled his eyes, and then winced when she smacked him on the arm as she walked back into the dining room, leaving Derek and Stiles alone with a stack of unlit candles between them.

“Ow,” Stiles hissed, his reaction significantly delayed. Derek stared at him. Stiles stared back, and then flushed and looked away, grabbing a candle and lighting it quickly.

“Come on, let’s get this over with,” Stiles grumbled, not at all happy to be going down into the Hale basement. Despite the makeover to the rest of the house, the basement had mostly survived, so it had remained practically the same. It was still fucking creepy, in Stiles’ opinion, and he said so at every opportunity.

“This basement is fucking creepy, Derek.”

Like right now. Derek sighed and gently shoved Stiles ahead of him, growling out a soft ‘just GO, Stiles’, his patience fraying with every single thing that went wrong.

First their fight had left Derek in a rotten mood.

Second had been the turkey not being ready in time.

Then, Stiles had suggested they have separate family dinners, because he didn’t want to deal with the awkwardness of “a large family dinner”. Derek knew it was completely his fault though. It basically would have been Derek, Cora and Issac. Even Boyd and Erica would have gone home to Boyd’s family, and Scott and Melissa would have eaten with Stiles and John, considering they were best friends, and Melissa and John were dating exclusively now. Lydia would have been with Allison and her Father, considering her own parents were on some fabulous cruise in the Bahamas (bah-hum-bug, she’d said with a roll of her eyes and flip of her hair). Luckily for Derek, no one had listened to that idea, despite Stiles’ complaints.

The last straw, of course, was the power.

And now he was stuck in the basement with someone who he still cared about deeply, who cared about him, but they were both struggling to figure out where exactly they each stood with the other.

Derek was pretty sure he was in quicksand when it came to Stiles. It didn’t matter how much he struggled or fought to stay away, to rid himself of the annoying, loud, brash teenager; Stiles always seemed to pull him back in, even if he didn’t know what he was doing consciously.

“Derek, seriously, where did you move the freaking camping gear, wasn’t it just right here?!”

Derek grunted and pointed to the other side of the basement, near the stairs where he’d built wall to wall and ceiling to floor shelving. Stiles shot him a glare and stalked off in that direction, slowing down to a crawl when the flame on his candle guttered, threatening to die. Derek caught up with him and let out a dry laugh.

“Stiles, it’s not going to go out. And even if it did, I’ve got mine,” Derek held his own candle up, the flame going strong. Stiles smirked over at him, arched a brow.

“Would you light my candle?”

Derek blinked. “…What?”

Stiles sighed, shoulders slumping.

“Seriously dude? Rent? Famous musical about AIDS and being queer and young and poor in New York?” Stiles said, exasperated. Derek shrugged. Stiles sighed again, even heavier.

“Never mind,” he muttered. “Where are the lanterns?”

Derek pointed to them, watching as Stiles’ head came up, neck craned back as he looked up at the lanterns, which were perched on the top most shelf, next to the MREs and boxes of bungee cords. Stiles turned to glare at Derek again, eyes squinted.

“You’re kind of a jack ass sometimes, you know that?”

“So they tell me,” Derek deadpanned, barely controlling the lip twitch that wanted to bloom into a full on smile when Stiles just pulled his lips into a thin line and shook his head at him, obviously amused and trying desperately not to be.

“How the hell are we supposed to get those? They’re like, eight feet up there.”

“Stiles, how tall are you?”

“Six foot, why?”

“You can reach that,” Derek sighed, leaning against the shelving and looking up at the top shelf. “It’s not that high.”

“Well, why don’t you get them then?” Stiles bitched, stepping in close to Derek’s personal space. The smell of Stiles came with him, wafting over Derek and sending a shiver up his spine. Stiles still smelt so good, even with that stupid cologne masking his natural scent to Derek’s nose.

“It’s more fun to watch you struggle for things,” he replied with a smirk, and the look of pure loathing Stiles gave him shouldn’t have made Derek feel so warm.

“You’re a dick.” Stiles bit out.

“This is the thanks I get for tending to your strawberries while you were in class? I’m wounded,” Derek sighed, holding a hand to his chest as he attempted to look hurt. He could tell that Stiles didn’t want to smile, but did despite himself.

“Dick,” Stiles laughed, shaking his head and handing Derek his candle so he could reach up for the lanterns.

 _You love me_ , Derek wanted to say, but he didn’t. Even if it was true, which he kind of doubted at this point, it wasn’t something he could say out loud. Not now. Maybe not ever again.

“Uhhhh, uhp! Woah,” Stiles juggled the lantern in his hands, almost dropped it, and then grinned as he managed to carefully set it down so he could go back for the others. In the end they collected three lanterns, and went back upstairs to a dimly lit dining room, candles strewn along the banquet table against the far wall, a few candelabras on the oak table itself giving light above their food.

“We have returned from the great depths of the basement!” Stiles crowed, and the clapping around the table even made Derek smile.

They ate by candle and lantern light, and even after the power came back on, decided to leave the lights off. It was somehow homier, safer, in the candlelight. The house felt like a home again, those around the table felt like a family again, and even with people who he didn’t know that well, even with hunters seated just down the table from him, Derek hadn’t felt that content in over a decade. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt the sense of rightness, deep down to the marrow of his bones.

And if his feet ended up tangled with Stiles’ under the table, and they shared twin blushes on their cheeks, no one was the wiser.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles convinces Derek to get Skype. Un beta'd.

**imBATMAN** : Derek? Is it working?  
 **DHale** : Yeah it’s working.  
 **DHale** : Why did you make me download this stupid Skype thing again?  
 **imBATMAN** : Because it’s better than facebook’s chat, that’s why.   
**imBATMAN** : Because we still chat, and if you wanted to sometime, we could webcam.  
 **DHale** : What?  
 **imBATMAN** : siiiiigh. Derek seriously, you’re not that old, what the hell dude?  
 **DHale** : Oh, you mean video chat?  
 **imBATMAN** : :T yes. that. Smart ass.  
 **DHale** : ;)  
 **imBATMAN** : HAH. Holy shit you just used an emoticon at me! :D  
 **DHale** : uh, yes I did. Should I have not?  
 **imBATMAN** : No, no it’s fine dude. It’s just, weird I guess? I could totally see you winking at me in my head!  
 **DHale** : You have always had a vivid imagination Stiles. :)

Derek sat back in his chair, sighing softly as the little pencil continued to ‘write’ on the screen, indicating that Stiles was typing. He wasn’t sure how they’d come to this, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. In the weeks since Thanksgiving, they’d talked more and more on-line, about everything. It was almost like he could pretend they’d never broken up, and Stiles was just a phone call away like he’d been when he was still living with his Dad’s.

It was harder to pretend that was the case though, when almost every day there was evidence that while they were working on rebuilding their friendship, Stiles was slipping further and further away as a romantic partner. So far his ‘status’ (and really how fucking stupid was that?) on Facebook hadn’t changed from single, but Derek knew it was only a matter of time.

 **imBATMAN** : Indeedy do. Hey, you think you could help me figure out what to get everyone for Christmas? It’s like less than two weeks away, and while I got Scott his very own handy dandy stethoscope, so he can stop using the one Deaton gave him as a hand-me-down, everyone else in the pack is super hard to buy for.  
 **DHale** : You bought Scott a stethoscope? How romantic of you.  
 **imBATMAN** : Hey, fuck off! :P It’s a great gift for a budding veterinarian! Besides, he’s been whining about the one that Deaton had amplifying everything too much, because y’know, werewolf hearing. So I modified it to make things not as loud, but still as clear.  
 **DHale** : Truly, you are a genius Stiles.  
 **imBATMAN** : I know it. ;)  
 **DHale** : Heh.  
 **imBATMAN** : So seriously, what should I get for everyone else?  
 **DHale** : I don’t know Stiles.   
**imBATMAN** : DEREK. You live with them, come on, just, THINK. A little. I know it’s hard but you can do it! :D  
 **DHale** : You’re asking me for a favor, Stiles. Be nice.  
 **imBATMAN** : Sorry. Please? :(  
 **DHale** : Alright fine. Boyd is thinking about becoming a teacher. He told me a few weeks ago that he really liked history when he was a kid, and that it sucked that his teacher wasn’t more enthusiastic. So, he’s studying history, and he’s working towards getting his teaching credentials next year.  
 **imBATMAN** : Wow. :O That’s really cool, I had no idea Boyd was into that. Thanks, that’ll help.  
 **DHale** : No problem. Isaac is harder. He doesn’t know what he wants to do just yet. But I know he really liked stealing Ethan’s bike once we ran them off, so maybe something for that? He has a helmet, but no other bike gear just yet. Ethan’s jacket was too tight in the shoulders for him.  
 **imBATMAN** : Right right…maybe I could go in on something like that with someone. Derek?  
 **DHale** : Fine. I’ll pay for half of whatever you get. Just don’t go nuts.  
 **imBATMAN** : DEAL!  
 **DHale** : Erica’s probably the hardest, if I’m being honest. She hasn’t settled on what she wants to do yet, and she’s just taking a bunch of different classes at the city college right now. I know she loves board games though, she makes us play them on pack nights. Maybe something like that?  
 **imBATMAN** : Ok, think you could get me a list of games you guys already have?  
 **DHale** : Not a problem.  
 **imBATMAN** : You’re the best :)

Derek shook his head, unable to stop smiling. His cheeks hurt whenever they talked, whether it was via Facebook or text, and now Skype. He couldn’t even talk to Stiles when someone else was in the room, because the one time he’d tried, he’d forgotten they were there until the burst of giggles that erupted out of his Betas brought him out of his Stiles-induced smile coma.

 **imBATMAN** : What about a present for a certain sour wolf?  
 **DHale** : I thought you hated Peter.  
 **imBATMAN** : Oh, HA HA. Peter is pedo-wolf. You’re Sour Wolf and you know it :P  
 **DHale** : I don’t need a present Stiles.

Derek frowned as he stared at the screen. He’d already gotten Stiles’ present months ago; he figured the Jeep was getting worn out, and a full tune-up and replacement of the windshield (which was spider-webbed over with cracks) was in order. Getting the gift certificate had been easy enough, but hiding it from his pack had been a bit harder. Even if they were broken up, Derek still wanted Stiles to have a reliable ride to get from Beacon Hills to Stanford and back as much as he wanted to. Hopefully more, if Stiles could for pack meetings on long weekends.

 **imBATMAN** : Seriously Derek? You’re going to fight me on this? You do remember what happened last year, right?

Derek remembered. That reindeer sweater had been the single most obnoxious present he’d ever gotten. He still wore it whenever he felt particularly self-loathing and bitter and lonely. It did light up, after all. He was just glad it didn’t sing Christmas carols like Stiles had threatened it did.

 **DHale** : Yes. You are never going to buy me another Christmas sweater. I forbid it.  
 **imBATMAN** : Yes sir, Alpha sir!  
 **imBATMAN** : But you have to give me some other idea about a present I can give you then.  
 **DHale** : Just come home for Christmas Stiles. And don’t let things be awkward between us.  
 **imBATMAN** : I am coming home Derek. I promised you at Thanksgiving, dude.  
 **DHale** : I meant come home, come home, not stay at your Dad’s and see us for an hour on Christmas day.  
 **imBATMAN** : …It’d be really weird to stay there Derek.

Derek paused, his immediate defensive ‘no it wouldn’t be’ deleted before he could accidentally send it. He hesitated for a second, and then typed out a more carefully worded response.

 **DHale** : Okay. So stay with your Dad. But we get a full day of you. I know for a fact that your Christmas break is two weeks long. You can spare a full day for us.  
 **imBATMAN** : ….When you say us, do you really mean you?

Derek swallowed hard, fingers hovering over the keyboard for a moment.

 **DHale** : Maybe.  
 **DHale** : And if I did?

There’s nothing for a solid minute, and Derek feels himself get angry once again. It was stupid to think that Stiles would want to spend time alone with him, after everything they’d gone through. It was stupid to think that he would even give Derek the time of day, much less want to-

 **imBATMAN** : I’m in. As long as you let me spike the hot cocoa. I bought this awesome marshmallow vodka. I think I’m going to need it if you want me to spend a whole day with your grouchy anti-Christmas butt.  
 **DHale** : I’m not anti-Christmas, I’m anti capitalism, there’s a difference.  
 **imBATMAN** : And yet you love the Charlie Brown Christmas movie.  
 **DHale** : THAT’S DIFFERENT!

Derek felt the blush as it hit his cheeks, and slouched lower in his chair, glaring at the screen as if he could make Stiles feel his discomfort from there.

 **imBATMAN** : Anyone ever tell you you’re adorable when you’re angry?  
 **DHale** : Stiles…are you drunk again?  
 **imBATMAN** : Nope.  
 **DHale** : Oh.  
 **imBATMAN** : I’ll be there.  
 **DHale** : Good.  
 **imBATMAN** : I have to go. DON’T MAKE THIS AWKWARD.  
 **DHale** : Okay, bye.  
 _imBATMAN is unavailable._

Derek sat back up in his chair, licked his lips, and waited a full five minutes before he got up and walked out of his bedroom. He was sure the flush was gone from his face, even if the smile refused to fully leave.

“And why are you so chipper at god awful o’clock in the morning?” Peter asked, yawning and stretching as he came out of his room at the end of the hallway.

“It’s 1pm, Peter.”

Peter arched an eyebrow and then shrugged, yawning again as he flumped barefoot down the stairs to the kitchen.

“Scott?” Derek called as he rounded the corner into the living room, where Isaac and Boyd were busy playing Smash Bros, while Erica read a book with her feet propped up on Boyd’s lap. Isaac looked up for a split second, smiled, and then looked back at the screen.

“He’s at Deaton’s. Said he’d be back later, had shopping to do with his Mom.”

“Okay, thanks Isaac. Did- do you guys need to go shopping? For Christmas?” Derek asked hesitantly.

Boyd and Isaac both froze, looked slowly at each other, and then up at Derek.

“Derek, is this your _seriously_ awkward way of asking if we’ll go Christmas shopping with you?” Erica asked, her face screwed up in disbelief, book still hanging open in her hands.

Derek fidgeted, then nodded once and cleared his throat.

“Yeah.”

“Sure,” Boyd said with a shrug, and turned back to the game just in time to blow Isaac off the screen. His character’s on screen death sounds were only slightly less impressive than his real life screech of rage.

_“No fair I wasn’t watching Boyd!”_

Derek smiled to himself and walked out of the now noisy living room into the kitchen, where he scrounged up some cereal, and went to sit on the front porch to eat. The stains from the popsicle sticks from the summer were long gone; but the lingering smell of sugar-sweet fake cherry, orange and grape were noticeable when he sat down on the steps, sighing as he relaxed against one of the posts that held the porch up.

The leaves of the forest had turned, going orange and red and finally brown. All around the house were beds of brown needles, sweet gum tree leaves the size of his face, and other debris that made up the dense, crunchy blanket on the forest floor at this time of year. The air was crisp and clean smelling, and Derek sat and enjoyed the world for a moment, blocking out the squabbling that was going on inside the house behind him.

In just two short weeks Stiles would be back.

The thought made his chest tight, and his honey nut cheerios taste somehow even sweeter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles comes home for Christmas. (part 1)

Four days later, Stiles became friends with someone named Caleb Rodriquez. The flirtation started within hours, just small talk really, but Derek could see beneath the kidding that happened back and forth on Stiles' wall. He could see it in the smug smile on Caleb's Facebook profile picture, the too sure cocky grin with a slightly askew tooth which Derek was just sure Stiles found endearing. He wanted to punch it out of the kid’s face.

It made him sick how easily he could get jealous, when he had no right to be, and worse yet, no real motive. This Caleb kid was scrawny and his puns weren't even remotely funny. Derek slammed his laptop shut and went for a run, afraid that he'd let his jealousy get the better of him and he'd say something he would regret later, when Stiles saw it and berated him via Skype.

The run helped him calm down, but it did nothing for the ache in his chest that had been growing in width and depth since he and Stiles had started talking again. Derek was a little bitter that he'd been able to live without Stiles for what seemed like an eternity, and now that he had allowed himself the pleasure of just talking to Stiles again, it was like the pain of the break up was back, ten-fold. Sure, it wasn't as fresh and stinging, but the dull throbbing ache was almost worse. Derek wasn't sure which he'd rather have, but he did know he'd rather take the pain than not have Stiles in his life at all.

-

 **DHale** : Soooo... I heard that you aced your last test.  
 **imBATMAN** : Hey! Yeah, I think I did anyway. Won't find out until the Prof posts the grades online.  
 **imBATMAN** : I'm coming home tomorrow, just have to get the oil changed on the Jeep before I head up.  
 **DHale** : Don't bother Stiles, just come home.  
 **imBATMAN** : Dude, no. I need to get Betty's oil changed or she's going to throw a fit.  
 **DHale** : And you will. Just come home first.  
 **imBATMAN** : I'm building up a relationship with the dude at the shop down here! He's teaching me stuff and giving me discounts when I assist him.  
 **DHale** : Stiles, just come home. Seriously. It was going to be a surprise but because you're so stubborn, I'll just tell you. Your Christmas present has to do with Betty and the shop here. Just come home.  
 **imBATMAN** : What? NO you're not going to buy my love by taking care of Betty, that's fighting dirty!  
 **DHale** : and when have you ever known me to fight with honor?  
 **imBATMAN** : True. You are a total cad and a rotten scoundrel.  
 **DHale** : What can I say, it just comes naturally.  
 **imBATMAN** : Heh XD How's everyone doing?  
 **DHale** : Good. Ish. Peter is being a bastard, Boyd is gone almost every day for school with Erica of course, I hardly see Scott between Deaton's/Allison/school, and Isaac is spending most of his time on campus or at his job bagging at Safeway. I think he's making friends in his classes too. He seems happier anyway.  
 **imBATMAN** : Aw, that sounds good!  
 **imBATMAN** : How's the Alpha though?  
 **DHale** : Fine.  
 **imBATMAN** : Derek. We dated for over a year. Seriously, "Fine." ? That's code for 'I don't want to talk about it' with you.  
 **DHale** : You know the code? Good. Obey it.  
 **imBATMAN** : Geez, what crawled up your ass and died?  
 **DHale** : I'm just  
 **DHale** : Nothing, Stiles. I'm okay. Seriously.  
 **imBATMAN** : Yeah, and I'm serious too. Talk to me. We still do that don't we?  
 **DHale** : Yeah...  
 **DHale** : I just miss everyone.  
 **imBATMAN** : They've got the next few weeks off too, don't they?  
 **DHale** : Yeah.  
 **imBATMAN** : Then you'll see more of them :) And me too.  
 **DHale** : Yeah :)  
 **imBATMAN** : I'll see you tomorrow, okay? First thing when I get into town: getting Betty that oil change!  
 **DHale** : Deal.  
 **imBATMAN** : NIght Derek :D  
 **DHale** : goodnight Stiles.

-

"Derek! What the hell man, the house is fine, would you just- stop?!"

Derek looked up with a scowl, glaring across the room at Scott, who had been watching him scrub the counter of the kitchen, in the same spot, for ten minutes straight. He started for another second, and then went back to cleaning, finishing with a final swipe of the cloth just to spite Scott, who sighed and rolled his eyes.

"I know you're nervous about Stiles coming h-"

"I'm _no_ t nervous, Scott." Derek threw the cloth into the sink, turning around to grab a beer from the fridge. He'd been up since 4am, and it was only a little after 2 in the afternoon. Stiles should have been there already, but Derek hadn't heard anything.

He was nervous, but not for the reason that Scott thought. Well, not _just_ for that reason.

"Stiles is going to come in any second, and you look like you got a job cleaning for a living. GO. Take a shower. You stink. Stiles won't smell it but I can," Scott wrinkled his nose and walked away, leaving Derek frowning after him, and then subtly smelling himself.

Derek showered. Begrudgingly.

Peter sat in the living room, a book in hand, and barely flicked his eyes up to acknowledge his nephew when Derek came back into the room after he'd pulled on a clean pair of jeans and a shirt he knew Stiles was particularly fond of (probably because Stiles had been the one to pick it out).

"You reek of teenage angst, Derek. It's not attractive in the slightest," Peter drawled, licking his finger lightly and turning the page of his book. Derek wondered if anyone in the pack would miss his Uncle if he killed Peter again.

He gritted his teeth instead. "Shut up Peter."

"Ooo, I'm shaking in my lambskin boots." Peter pretended to shiver, and Derek counted to ten as he walked out of the room and left the house before his patience waned.

It was the sound of a squeaky suspension and muffled techno that brought Derek out of his slow spiral of Uncle-hatred. He'd know that sound anywhere. Stiles. He just managed to stop himself from bounding down the steps of the porch and racing down the road to meet Stiles halfway up the drive. Instead, he sat down on the railing that went around the entire house, and pretended to be playing on his phone, only looking up when Stiles brought the Jeep to a halt right beside his Camaro. The plume of dust he brought with him smelled like exhaust and dry forest, making Derek's nose tingle and a sneeze tickle at the back of his throat until he swallowed it down.

"Derek," Stiles said as he climbed out of the Jeep, face stoic.

"Stiles," Derek replied, just as straight faced.

Derek broke first, the smile twitching the corners of his lips, but Stiles wasn't far behind.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Stiles bounced up the steps, keys jangling in his pants pocket, nodding at the phone in Derek's hands.

"Tell me that's Angry Birds."

"Words with Friends."

Derek smirked as the look of shock on Stiles' face quickly morphed into faux anger.

" _You dick_ , you didn't tell me that you had words with friends!" Stiles pushed Derek's shoulder, and he couldn't help but laugh as Derek fell off the railing and landed gracefully on his feet on the other side. The smirk on his face was replaced instantly with a straight expression as he walked up the steps to come face to face with Stiles again.

"I know. Wanted to get some practice in before I challenged the reigning King to a duel, and took his crown for myself."

Stiles snorted and shook his head, taking a step closer to Derek.

"Yeah? That the only reason? You weren't just scared I was going to crush you?"

Derek swallowed as he looked up, the realization that Stiles had grown a little bit, and was now just slightly taller than him sent something spinning inside him. He felt warm, and it wasn't unpleasant at all.

"Well, yeah, that too," Derek admitted with a slow grin, and Stiles beamed. Derek felt like someone had just turned on the sun.

"Thought so." Stiles cleared his throat and nodded toward the house behind him. "Everyone home?"

"Some. Peter and Boyd. Isaac and Scott are both at work, but they'll be back later. Erica’s shopping, and Cora isn't flying home until the day before Christmas," Derek explained as he opened the door and held it for Stiles, choosing to pointedly ignore the incredulous look (and eyeroll) that Stiles gave him.

"Ah, the pet human returns home."

"Nice to see you too, pedo-wolf." Stiles snarked. Peter just grinned.

"Kitty has claws," he purred, waggling his eyebrows at Stiles, whose upper lip peeled back in disgust.

"Peter. Behave," Derek warned, narrowing his eyes at his Uncle, who merely shrugged and went back to his book. Stiles wandered through the living room to the kitchen, pausing to look back at Derek, who was right behind him.

 _"JESUS!"_  Stiles stumbled back a step, hand to his chest, eyes shocked wide. Derek blinked and arched an eyebrow slowly.

"Still not used to th-"

"Yeah,  _yeah_ , the creepy, stealthy, werewolf silence thing. No, still not used to it, _thanks,_ " Stiles snarled, storming over to the fridge and yanking it open. He pulled out a beer and popped the top off, took a long swig, wiped his mouth, and sighed.

"Last I remembered, you were 19, not 21."

Stiles flipped him off, and Derek couldn't help but laugh as Stiles took another swig off the beer, before pulling another one out of the fridge for Derek. Their hands touched when Stiles handed the beer over, and although both of them felt the zing shiver up their spines from the contact, neither said anything.

-

That night Stiles stayed at his Dad's, but early the next morning Derek met him at the automotive shop. The mechanic was a nice mild aged man named Eugene, and while Derek didn't like the way he looked at Stiles, he knew from years of his parents coming to the shop exclusively for Eugene's expertise that it was the only place he wanted to take Stiles and his precious 'Betty'.

"So, you still want an oil change, a 140,000 mile tune up, and the windshield replaced like we talked about on the phone Derek?"

Stiles squawked, flailing slightly as he turned to stare wide eyed at Derek.

"Derek?!"

Derek just nodded, and gestured for Stiles to hand the keys to his Jeep over to Eugene, who held out an expectant hand. Stiles did, after a moment's hesitation. 

"Be done in a few days, boys, I'll give you a call," Eugene nodded, and turned around to climb up into the Jeep. Stiles and Derek walked back to his car, and climbed into the still warm interior. Derek started the car and pulled out, headed back to the Hale house, and it was a solid five minutes before Stiles spoke up.

"You didn't have to do that, you know," Stiles said softly, staring ahead at the road.

"I know," Derek said, "but I wanted to."

He didn't miss the slight smile on Stiles' lips, which he matched with his own after a moment.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is home for Christmas part 2

The rest of the day went surprisingly…easy. It was almost as if nothing had gone wrong between them, and they were still together. Derek let Stiles joke around with him, and listened attentively when Stiles regaled the pack with tales of how horrifying the bathroom in a frat house was (even Scott looked scandalized), to the time when he managed to almost blow up the chemistry lab.

“Hang on,” Boyd frowned softly as he stared at Stiles, who was sipping hot cocoa through a hollow peppermint stick. “Why are you taking chemistry? I thought you were majoring in criminal psychology Stiles?”

Stiles nodded jerkily and swallowed, sighing as he set the now empty mug down on the table in front of him.

“I am,” he paused and adjusted his position on the couch, long legs now stretched out across what seemed like half the room to Derek. “I’m just also interested in chemistry, and the science that goes behind catching criminals. I figure, hey, if I’m no good at the detective side of it, I could always have a career in crime scene investigation.”

Isaac and Erica snorted, Peter rolled his eyes, and even Scott had to laugh. Stiles looked puzzled, and then mildly offended.

“What?”

Derek cleared his throat and nodded at Stiles. “You just want to pull off your sunglasses and say cheesy one liners like Horatio.”

Derek watched in amusement as Stiles’ jaw dropped open, and he gasped in faux shock. “Derek! I thought you knew me better than that- if there’s anyone I’d want to emulate with the one liners, it’d be Grissom.”

Scott smirked and nudged Isaac, who turned to look at him.

“It’d be easier for Stiles to get a pair of aviators than to grow a beard as impressive as Grissom’s,” he whispered, and then was beaned in the head with a pillow as Stiles squawked angrily from across the room.

“I didn’t have to have werewolf hearing to hear that, Brutus!”

Boyd stood up and collected the empty cups with an air of ease, not hurrying as he stacked them on the tray that Isaac had used to bring them all out, thanking Erica for holding the tray with a smile.

“You know, if he’s Brutus, that’d make you Caesar. Stiles, even you aren’t that full of yourself,” Erica pointed out.

“You mocked me once, never do it again,” Stiles said, holding his head up high. Derek snorted behind his hand as Isaac and Scott dissolved into laughter, leaning against one another.

“That’s a more fitting roll for you, Princess,” Boyd said over his shoulder as a parting shot, ignoring Stiles’ shout of “I’ll have you know Buttercup was badass!”

Derek managed to school his expression back into one of relative calm, and then nodded towards the front door.

“Patrol with me Stiles?”

“As you wish,” Stiles replied, and they both froze for a second, the awkwardness of the situation hitting them hard, and silencing the laughter that had previously made the atmosphere so light. Derek swallowed hard, and then Isaac spoke up, changing the subject. Derek wasn’t sure if he’d ever loved the curly headed teenager more.

“Derek, do you want us to make something for dinner, or were we going to order pizza still?”

Derek opened the front door and shrugged, muttering ‘Whatever you guys want’, as he walked out the door and into the crisp afternoon air. Stiles hesitated, and then scrambled to pull on his shoes before following Derek outside.

“Derek! Hang on- just wai- Oof!” Derek arched a brow at Stiles as he fell back on his ass, having not been watching where he was going; he’d run right into Derek, who had been waiting for him on the porch.

“Ready?”

“Y-yeah, just, lemme tie my shoes,” Stiles muttered, the flush on his cheeks gorgeous, but just a little too pink to be from the chill air.

Derek waited, impatiently, arms crossed over his chest, and when Stiles finally jumped up and grinned at him, they both started off on the usual patrol path around the Hale property. There was nothing but the dry crunch of leaves and twigs underfoot for a while, Derek’s hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket, Stiles’ own in the pocket of his well-worn Stanford hoodie. A rabbit that darted by, brown with its ears back, finally broke the spell, and Stiles gasped and slapped Derek’s arm; Derek had already noticed the rabbit, some time ago, thanks to its careless noise making.

“Jack rabbit?”

Derek shook his head, hummed in the back of his throat. “No, brush rabbit. Jack rabbits are desert creatures, mostly.”

Stiles shrugged. “Dry enough here right now,” he sighed. Stiles had told Derek about wanting white winters; his family would go up to the Sierra Nevadas, towards Lake Tahoe, when he was a kid. There was sledding and skiing, hot cocoa by the pot belly stove. At night they’d read stories and on Christmas morning, they’d unwrap presents by the tiny fake tree; there was no need to cut down a real one when they were surrounded by pines on all four sides.

Derek frowned at the look on Stiles’ face, the wash of sadness that came over his features, shoulders slumping down and even the corners of his mouth falling. He bumped Stiles with his shoulder, nodding toward the clear blue sky overhead.

“I bet we’ll get some rain soon,” he said softly. “It’s cold enough we might even get snow this year,” Derek knew it was a lie even as he said it, but the way Stiles smiled and shook his head, letting out a huff of disbelief, was worth it.

“Derek, Beacon Hills hasn’t gotten snow in years,” Stiles pointed out, shrugging further into his hoodie. “It’s not a big deal. We’ll have a good Christmas anyway.”

Derek nodded, but by the look on Stiles’ face, he wasn’t so sure if he believed him; Stiles certainly didn’t look like he believed himself.

-

Their walk was quiet after that, but once again, it felt natural to just be with Stiles, and Derek came back inside feeling even warmer than when he’d left the house, over an hour earlier. Stiles on the other hand, had ears that were like ice cubes, and a nose that was threatening to run away for warmer climates. It was only appropriate that he greet Scott by burying his face against Scott’s neck.

The shriek that followed had Derek grinning past his jealousy.

Dinner was pizza, but they cooked it themselves, Isaac having bought the ingredients from the store he worked at. They each made their own pizza, with a variety of toppings on each, and shared them amongst themselves. Except for Scott’s, which had pineapple on it, and no one else even wanted to touch that.

It was dark by the time they settled down on the couches to watch a movie, and even reclusive Peter joined them this time, sliding into the lone armchair across from the loveseat, where Isaac and Scott were stretched out and taking up all the space they could.

Scott had chosen Avengers, and even though they’d all seen it dozens of times (minus Peter), it was a good choice. Explosions and super heroes soothed any of the raw edges of Derek’s feelings, a balm to the frays that Stiles’ laugh brought, every smile making it harder to hold back and keep his hands to himself.

He’d almost screwed up early, on the walk. They’d been walking together in silence for almost fifteen minutes after seeing the rabbit, when Stiles had tripped. Derek had caught him easily, but the feel of Stiles’ body under his hands had shocked him, and Derek had been forced to let go, leaving Stiles to stumble backwards and then bitch him out for being a jerk.

Derek figured Stiles would prefer a little awkward stumbling to what he’d been about to do, which was shove Stiles up against the nearest tree and kiss him until neither of them could breathe. The Hulk smashing Loki into the floor, and the following wave of laughter from his pack, brought Derek’s thoughts back to the present. The flickering light of the screen danced over Stiles’ face; he was beautiful, even awash in the white/blue glow of the TV. It was wholly unfair.

Stiles left for his Dad’s house around midnight, after sitting and talking with Scott for a few hours, and then helping Boyd pick out which side dish to make for the huge family dinner that was happening in less than a week. Derek watched from his room as Stiles climbed onto the back of Scott’s dirt bike, hesitating just long enough to look up at the house. When their eyes met, he felt the same heat curling in his belly that he’d felt when Stiles had first confessed to liking Derek, over two years ago. Stiles smiled, waved, and then was gone with a cloud of dust and a whoop as Scott gunned it, Stiles’ arms wrapped like vices around his waist.

Derek refused to be jealous. Refused.

-

A day passed without Derek seeing Stiles at all. He shuffled around the house all morning, feeling useless. Scott was gone with Allison, who had just gotten back from school herself, and Peter had decided now was the best time to go pick up Cora in San Francisco, even though her flight wasn’t getting in for another two days. Derek figured that it was probably a good thing, as that would be one less person to cause tensions around the house, but at the same time he felt increasingly…lonely. Even Boyd, Erica and Isaac, who had neither school nor work, had decided to find something else to do for the day than hang around the house with Derek.

Which is why he was alone when Lydia came knocking.

“…Hello Lydia,” Derek said, trying unsuccessfully to keep the surprise on his face.

“Derek,” she said curtly, nodding as she breezed past him into the house, an over-stuffed shopping bag on each arm. She paused in the open doorway, halfway into the living room, and turned around to look expectantly at him. “Well?”

Derek shut the door with a frown, not bothering to lock it.

“Well what?”

“Well, are you going to come help me decorate, or am I going to have to do it all by myself?” She huffed, rolling her eyes as she shrugged one of the large bags off her shoulder and held it out toward him.

“Decorate?” Derek asked smartly, and Lydia’s red-lipped grin was almost scary.

“Decorate.”

It took almost the entire afternoon, but by the time nightfall arrived the Hale House was decorated for Christmas in Lydia Martin style. There were poinsettias on either side of the porch stairs, six in total, and a holiday wreath in deep reds and greens on the door. Lydia had even strung glittering icicle lights around the porch roof with Derek’s help. The interior was decorated even more richly, with table runners in green silk brocade and stockings hung over the fireplace, one for every person (even Peter had one, though Lydia must have made his with a baby sock. Derek laughed until he cried when she gleefully pulled it out of one of the bags). There was even red and green plaid throw blankets for the couches, which Lydia admitted she’d gotten just for Stiles, and the normal soft blue and tan pillows had been replaced with gold edged emerald ones that matched the table runners. Lydia had outdone herself, and even Derek had to admit that the entire house seemed more inviting.

“Just wait, I also got little marshmallows shaped like trees and snowmen,” she laughed, nudging Derek with her elbow as he looked around the house. It felt more like home than he had since Stiles had left for college, over four months ago. Even Thanksgiving couldn’t compare to this.

“…Derek?”

He blinked and turned to look at her, the smile fading from her face as she stared up at him.

“Are you okay?”

Derek frowned at the look on Lydia’s face; he’d never seen her look like that where he was concerned. He nodded and looked away, back at the array of festivity she’d brought into the house.

“Yeah,” he said softly, “I’m good.”

Lydia continued to stare at him for a moment, before she finally gave a sad smile and reached out to squeeze his upper arm, making Derek startle slightly.

“You’re such a liar,” Lydia said, her smile growing a little wider when Derek hung his head.

“I can’t- I just miss him,” he admitted softly, and Lydia nodded in sympathy.

“I know. You’re an idiot, Derek,” she said, not unkindly. Derek couldn’t really argue with her about that. They finished up the last of the decorations (small golden bowls filled with cinnamon apple smelling candles that floated in water and made the whole house smell like apple pie was baking) before going into the kitchen for some hot cocoa, and conversation that was less stilted than he’d ever experienced with Lydia previously.

By the time the rest of the pack got home that night, Lydia and Derek were half way through a bottle of scotch, and laughing so hard they were crying.

Scott stared at them like they’d each grown a third head, but Allison just swooped in and offered to drive Lydia home, which Lydia accepted with a gracious and enthusiastic ‘Thank you I love you you’re the best friend ever’, or at least that’s what Allison must have taken from Lydia’s slurred exclamation of ‘Thas right, you ma’bitch!’.

Derek didn’t ask, and when Scott inquired about the possibility of Derek sharing his alcohol-friendly wolfsbane with everyone else, he said he’d think about it.

He went to bed alone that night, but he came to a very vivid fantasy of Stiles riding him; it wasn’t the real thing, but for once Derek couldn’t be bothered to feel guilty about jerking off to his ex. He was too drunk to summon any emotion other than lust and need, and when it was over, he thankfully fell into a dead sleep, not waking up until the next day until well after noon.

-

There was still one more day until Christmas eve, and Derek decided (after a shower to clear his head and half a loaf of bread’s worth of French toast, thank you Erica) that they should find a tree. The rest of the pack whole heartedly agreed, and so they set out into the thick forest to find a pine that was worthy of standing in the living room, amongst Lydia’s beautiful decorations.

It was strange to be walking into the forest, getting a Christmas tree, for the first time in years, and not a single person with him was actually a member of his family. They were all pack, Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Scott, Stiles, even Allison and Lydia, but they weren’t the family he was used to doing this with. It made Derek feel a little guilty about doing this without Cora or even Peter, but he wasn’t sure when they’d be home from San Francisco, and he wasn’t going to wait and miss out on the opportunity to have a tree again. He’d spent far too many years without one to let another go by, treeless.

“What about that one?” Isaac asked, pointing to a fifteen foot tall fir. Lydia and Stiles snorted in unison, and Boyd just smiled wryly.

“It’s a bit big, Isaac. Let’s try and keep them under ten feet, okay?” Derek said with a smile, and pointed to a scraggly tree nearby. “That one’s about nine feet. Around that size would be good…just with more foliage.”

Lydia linked arms with Allison, who linked arms with Erica, and the trio sang Christmas carols while the men forged ahead, axes and saw in hand. It was Allison who finally found the right tree, waving at the others and calling out for them to come see what she had found. Scott was there instantly, worry on his features until he realized that Allison was fine, and then he joined the others in scrutinizing her find.

The tree was perfect, in that the bald spot was barely noticeable, there weren’t any nests built in the branches, and it was just over nine feet, according to Boyd’s measurement against Isaac’s tall frame.

“Alright, so this is it?” Stiles asked, visibly vibrating with excitement. Derek carefully took the ax out of Stiles’ hands, arching an eyebrow pointedly, and then handed it over to Boyd.

“It’s perfect,” Lydia sighed, and leaned against Allison as Boyd made the first cut.

It only took two easy swings, and the tree was down.

Isaac and Scott carried it back, the others talking in rushed tones, eager to get home and decorate the tree.

“We used to string popcorn and wrap it around the tree when I was a kid, could we do that now?” Stiles asked eagerly, his eyes wide with childlike wonder at having a tree to decorate.

“Of course…it’s everyone’s tree, Stiles. We all get a say in how we want it to look,” Derek replied, offering Stiles a half smile as he kept walking, back through the once quiet, now song filled forest, toward their home.

“I think we should have a star on top, not an angel,” Isaac said softly.

“I love those vintage lights, the ones that look like they’re from the 60s or 70s!” Lydia exclaimed, and Allison giggled as they tromped through the ankle high leaves around them.

“Tinsel is messy, I vote NO tinsel!” Erica said from her perch on Boyd’s back, arms looped lazily around his shoulders.

“It’d be nice to make snowflakes,” Boyd suggested, and Derek nodded.

“Cora’s really good at those…we’ll wait to decorate it until tomorrow night, when Peter and Cora get back.”

The chorus of aw’s and why’s made Derek frown.

“Because they should be there, before we start. I haven’t seen Cora for a Christmas in almost a decade, and Peter? Peter hasn’t been _there_ for any of the Christmases we’ve celebrated since before,” Derek stopped when a hand was laid on his shoulder, looking up into Stiles’ warm honey colored eyes.

“It’s okay,” Stiles said gently. “We’ll wait for them.”

Derek swallowed, and nodded thankfully, watching as Stiles gave him a small smile and a squeeze to his shoulder. Stiles then walked away, back to Allison and Lydia who were walking by Scott, the four of them immediately picking up where they’d left off with what decorations they wanted on the tree.

Boyd shot Derek a look, one that was easy to read as ‘you okay?’, and Derek nodded, ignoring the looks he and Erica and Issac shared after.

His chest was tighter than it had been in months and he felt like he might puke out of gratefulness for a simple gesture of solidarity from Stiles, but yeah.

He was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the kudos and comments you guys. They really really help me when I feel blocked and like I'm not doing any good with this story ;_; ♥ If you see typos or errors, please feel free to tell me, either here or on my tumblr (I'm dreamofflight there too!)
> 
> (if the inside jokes don't make sense, I recommend you watching CSI: Las Vegas, CSI: Miami, learning the story of Caesar and Brutus, and watching A Princess Bride)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is home for the holidays!

The tree only took an hour to set up properly once they got it back and cleaned off all the dead needles from the lower branches. The main delaying factor was Lydia and Stiles arguing over when the tree was perfectly straight; luckily for all of them Scott remembered they had a level in the basement, and two minutes later the debate was settled- neither of them had been right.

They ended up ordering in from a Chinese place for dinner, and wound up with enough food to feed an army, or a pack of werewolves plus their human pack-mates. Dinner was loud; the atmosphere was one of celebration and family, and Derek found that he couldn’t even be annoyed with Stiles for chattering away with Scott about all his new friends at college. Jealousy took a backseat when he saw just how truly happy Stiles was; he couldn’t even find it in himself to be hurt that Stiles hadn’t seemed to miss being home at all while he’d been gone. Stiles was doing exactly what Derek had asked him to do. Stiles was living his life without him.

Lydia commanded that the men did the dishes, as she and the girls were going to be making breakfast the next morning, thanks to Allison’s quick thinking, and family recipes shed brought with her. No one argued, as dishes were literally cups and utensils, paper plates having come with the Chinese food tossed into the trash easily enough.

By the time the dishes were done a fire was roaring in the living room, thanks to Allison’s handiness, and when Stiles called for a puppy pile, no one argued. They all curled up with cocoa and sipped away at melting marshmallow trees and snowmen, while Bing Crosby crooned _‘White Christmas’_ from the radio. Derek didn’t miss the look of longing that flickered over Stiles' face when he thought no one was watching. Stiles’ eyes darted over to him, and Derek realized he’d been caught staring; thankfully all Stiles did was smile, and tilt his head to the side in a classic ‘whatcha thinking ‘bout?’ look that Derek knew all too well. He shrugged and smiled back, gesturing at the Betas and humans curled up around him and Stiles, everyone in a Chinese-food-coma, happy and sleepy and warm. Stiles smiled a little wider, and Derek grinned back, feeling his chest tighten pleasantly as they held each other’s gaze.

He willed the moment to last, but when Stiles’ phone vibrated in his pocket and he plucked it out and opened it, he knew it was gone the second Stiles’ face lit up. He excused himself to take the phone call, and from the quiet of the living room, Derek could hear Stiles’ voice take on an excited tone as he said hello to the person who had called him. Caleb.

Derek left the living room and went upstairs, ignoring the questions for his pack; his chest tightened in a different way, painful, as he heard snippets of the conversation between Stiles and the man on the other end of the line. It was snippets of a conversation he desperately didn’t want to hear, snippets that let him know that Stiles ‘missed’ this Caleb, and ‘wished he was here’.

Derek ignored Scott when he came to his door half an hour later, asking if Derek wanted to play Parcheesi with everyone else. He even ignored Erica when she came and begged him to play, and Boyd’s knocks fell on deaf ears as well.

Even when Stiles came to say goodnight hours later, Derek refused to get up; his stubbornness had set in, not allowing him to give up on his silent treatment of the rest of the world. Stiles sighed and shuffled down the hall after whispering goodnight to Derek through the door, and Derek couldn’t stop the aching feeling that came up, unbidden, the wish that Stiles had just tried the unlocked door, and shoved himself into Derek’s life as he had two years ago. It didn’t happen though, and as the house quieted down around him, Derek found himself wishing he wasn’t so stupid, wasn’t such a martyr. They’d wanted him to play, and instead he’d sulked upstairs in his dark room like a child.

He loved Parcheesi. He loved Stiles. He just wished it didn’t hurt so much still, and that maybe Stiles hadn’t given up quite so easily on them. Derek hated that he was the only reason for all of his pain. He hated that there was no easy ‘undo’ button for real life, because god could he use one right now.

-

Derek fell asleep eventually, curled up around a pillow that hadn’t smelt like Stiles in months, and dreamt of a giant board game where he was constantly getting slid back five steps, for every three steps forward he’d take. He woke up with his heart hammering violently in his chest and the smell of pancakes in the air, Isaac’s victorious shout of ‘Mickey Mouse Pancakes!’ floating up the stairs to rouse him from his nightmare.

He couldn’t get his limbs to move for a good twenty minutes, the dream weighing him down, keeping everything heavy and achy. The only thing that helped was taking a shower – Stiles’ body wash was sitting in the place it had for almost a year, and while on the one hand it made him furious and sick with longing, on the other it made heat flare in his guts. Derek came within five minutes, teeth digging viciously into his lower lip as he fucked his fist, other hand shakily holding onto the bottle as he inhaled the scent he’d gotten so used to equating with Stiles, with feeling good for the first time in years.

He overdid it with his own cologne, and glared at his Betas when they all wrinkled their noses at him, the plume of scent that followed him down the stairs over powering until it dissipated a few minutes later. It did a good job of covering the scent of come though, and no one questioned why he’d taken so long in the shower; Allison just handed him a plateful of re-heated pancakes, dimples popping into existence when she grinned as he thanked her.

Maybe he’d been wrong about her after all – Scott did seem to love her more and more with each day that passed, despite everything that had happened. Boyd and Erica had long since forgiven her too, after Allison had tearfully apologized once they had defeated the Alphas together. Derek smiled back at her, and took a seat beside Scott at the table, where he was sitting, taking animatedly with Stiles.

“I’m just saying, dude, we need to do something for New Years! What better time to explore San Fran? We can take Cora up for her flight back to New York, and hang out in the city for a few days, hit the clubs and parties and then get you back to Stanford in time for your classes on the 2nd no problem.”

Stiles arched a brow at Scott before grinning and high fiving his best friend across the table, which got a warning glare and clearing of throat from Lydia as the reindeer centerpiece wobbled precariously before righting itself. They grinned sheepishly in unison, and Lydia’s eyes popped wide before she muttered something about The Shining and left the kitchen without looking back.

“San Francisco, huh?” Erica asked, finishing off her own breakfast and walking the plate to the sink. Stiles and Scott nodded, before Stiles narrowed his eyes and pointed at Erica.

“ _Oh my god,_ you’d be the perfect wing woman,” he gasped, and Derek stiffened. Stiles didn’t seem to notice as he scrambled out of his seat and around the kitchen island to babble at Erica about how she just _had_ to come with them. Scott looked at Derek, confusion written on his features at the tense posture his Alpha had taken on, but Derek just shook his head, waving Scott’s worries away with his fork. He stabbed his pancake a bit more viciously than he meant to, but no one said a word, the scratch of metal on porcelain lost under Stiles’ ramblings.

-

It was a surprise when Cora and Peter got back around 3 that afternoon, a good four hours before Peter had told Derek to expect them, and everyone clamored out the door to greet the missing pack members. Cora ignored everyone in favor of Derek though, and as he hugged his little sister tight, he couldn’t help the swell of affection that came up, making it hard to breathe. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed her in the months she’d been gone.

“Hi Derek,” she whispered, and he chuckled as she squirmed out of his grasp, twin smiles on their faces. He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, eyebrows coming up in question.

“Have a good flight?”

She nodded, hefting her backpack off her shoulder and handing it to him with a soft half-smile as he accepted it from her.

“It wasn’t terrible,” she said lightly, leading the way up the stairs, leaving Peter to huff as he pulled her other bags from the trunk of the car.

“No, thanks, really, I’ve got it guys,” he called, and Scott and Isaac sheepishly turned back around to bound down the stairs and help him, so that Peter could go and park his car in the garage. ‘A car this beautiful should never be subjected to the harsh mistress that mother nature can be,’ Peter had once said about the older bright blue Porsche. Derek still preferred his Camaro, but he could see the appeal of the tiny roadster.

“You know you’re only here for two weeks, right Cora?” Scott asked as he and Isaac followed everyone else back into the house, pausing in the doorway as Cora took a wide-eyed look around.

“It’s-“

“Magnifique, I know,” Lydia preened, smirking as she took in the awed look on Cora’s face. Cora turned to face her, smiling indulgently.

“ _It is,_ Lydia. It’s amazing- It looks like it did when Mom was alive…Or, y’know…how she would have decorated it,” she trailed off, and Derek came over to gently squeeze her shoulder.

“There’s a tree,” he said, nodding toward the living room, and Cora squeaked, scrambling into the room and letting out a happy shout when she found it. It reminded Derek of when he was little, Christmas morning; they’d all tumble down the stairs, skidding on wooden floors and upsetting the carpet runners in the hallway in a bid to be the first into the living room, the first to see the presents that Santa had left under the tree.

“Derek! It’s beautiful!” Cora called, and Derek let the rest of the pack file in before him, hanging back in the doorway to watch as they all crowded around, the discussion of what to put on the tree back in full swing.

“I’m really amazed, Derek,” Peter said as he walked over, hanging his keys on the hooks that he’d put on the entry way wall just for that purpose. Derek arched a brow and crossed his arms over his chest defensively, staring at his Uncle until Peter scoffed and rolled his eyes, wandered over to stand next to Derek and watch the others in the living room.

“I mean it. I’m impressed. You started out with a bunch of whiny, overly-emotional teenagers-“

“HEY.”

“- and ended up with a cohesive pack of intelligent, empathetic wolves and human beings. They’re a family,” Peter finished, his eyes drifting from the gleeful sounds of the group across the room and back to his nephew. “And you did that.”

Derek shook his head, clearing his throat around the lump that had formed there from his Uncle's surprisingly genuine praise.

“No,” he murmured softly, feeling his heart skip in his chest as Stiles looked away from the tree toward them, beckoned him over with a wave and a smile.

“I didn’t. Not by myself.”

Peter smiled sadly and clapped a hand over Derek’s shoulder, squeezed, and then walked into the fray.

Derek stood on the outside for a moment longer, just to absorb it all- the unity of his pack, the wholeness of it.

“Derek!” Stiles called impatiently. Derek gave in, and stepped from the outside in, allowing himself this moment to indulge in feeling right once more.

He didn’t deserve Stiles, not after what he had done- but maybe he could have this.

Family.

The word ached in his chest, laying heavy upon his soul, and the feeling lasted through the rest of the night; through tree decorating and cookie baking, song singing and dancing (which he grudgingly gave into).

It lasted until the fire died down, and everyone went to bed, Stiles and Derek the last ones to go, Derek having to carry the sleeping teenager up the stairs to one of the remaining guest bedrooms. Stiles grabbed for him as he turned to go, after tucking him under the covers of the double bed.

 _“Derek-“_ Derek stopped, a shiver racing up his arm from where Stiles’ cool fingers were wrapped around his wrist.

“…What Stiles?”

“Are you okay?” Stiles asked carefully, and Derek could feel the worry in the words, hear it in the tremor of Stiles’ voice.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not though,” Stiles sighed after a moment of silence, slumping back against the pillow, the tense feeling strung so taut between them that the words broke it.

“Stiles-“ Derek started, and then stopped, shoulders slumping and his stomach dropping away, like he was on a rollercoaster and he’d just tipped over the first extreme plunge.

“I still lo-“

 _“No,”_ Stiles said, his voice tight and anxious as he sat up in the bed, hand snatched back from Derek’s wrist as though the skin burned him. Stiles shook his head, once, quick. “No,” he said again, firm and unyielding.

Derek swallowed hard, unable to speak, but nodded, before he turned and left the room. The door shut behind him with a click, and he didn’t have to have werewolf hearing to hear the soft stutter of breath, the choked sob behind the door.

He’d been wrong. Stiles hadn’t get over him that quickly after all.

Somehow…it just made it worse.


	7. Christmas morning part 1

Derek woke up the next morning to his door creaking open slowly, and a tentative voice calling his name.

“Stiles?” he mumbled sleepily, cracking open an eye as he shuffled into an awkward half seated position. The door came open more and Derek could tell from the look on Cora’s face that she’d heard his sleep-addled mumble. It was a look of pity he didn’t really want to see, not on Christmas morning.

“No, just me,” she said quietly, walking over and crawling up onto the bed. Derek was reminded of when she was 8 years old, and she’d woken him up with a war cry that was immediately followed by all then- fifty pounds of his little sister dropping on top of him, sharp elbows and knees digging into his body.

“Wake up Der! It’s Christmas!” She’d cackled, and it wasn’t for the first time that he had wondered if his sister had somehow wound up a were-hyena.

“Get off of me, you brat,” He growled back, sighing when she just continued to ignore him, and poking him with sharp fingers in his sides. Derek had yelped and then snarled, thrashing under her before flipping them and retaliating with tickles.

“AH! _No fair no fair!_ ” She shrieked, and the sound had brought the rest of his pack out of their bedrooms, one by one, to witness as the youngest Hales wrestled one another, until they realized they were being watched.

“Derek?”

The soft, almost worried tone of Cora’s voice brought him back to the present, where things were much quieter and less pleasantly boisterous.

“I’m okay Cora,” he said, lips forced upwards in a semblance of a smile. Cora’s frown spoke volumes, but she said nothing, choosing instead to curl up against his side as Derek laid back down on the bed.

It was still dark outside, and the siblings lay together, as they hadn’t in so, so long, just enjoying the feeling of family once more, of closeness. Too soon for Derek’s taste, the light begun to filter in from outside, and both Hales heard stirrings from the rest of the pack elsewhere in the house.

“You know, if you want him back, you’re going to have to work for it,” Cora pointed out gently, fingers tapping against Derek’s sternum, tilting her head up to look into Derek’s eyes. He knew it wasn’t meant unkindly, but the words still caused something inside of him to prickle.

“I know.”

Cora smirked. “So why aren’t you?”

“I am. Just, stop meddling, will you? I’m _—_ I’m working on it,” Derek grimaced, realizing how absolutely pathetic that sounded even as the words left his lips. Cora smiled sadly and patted his chest. When Derek’s expression remained one of barely-concealed-sadness, she decided to take matters into her own hands though, and started tickling Derek, just as she had over a decade ago.

Peals of laughter from Derek’s room brought the rest of the pack out of slumber; one by one they all wandered down the hallway to join Peter, who was the first to wind up standing in the doorway, watching as his niece and nephew wrestled and tickled like they used to when he babysat them on Derek’s parents’ ‘date nights’. A clearing of his throat brought them both out of their tickle-induced trances, and Peter couldn’t help the smug look of amusement that came to his face when he saw how bright red Derek flushed at being caught acting like a child; underneath it all Peter felt surprisingly fond toward his nephew, a feeling he hadn’t experienced in years. He cleared his throat and nodded toward the stairs.

“Enough gawking, all of you. Yes, your Alpha can act like a five-year-old from time to time. Close your mouths before you catch flies.”

Boyd arched a brow silently at that, but Erica straight out snorted.

“Way to age yourself, old man,” she snarked, and Peter shot her a withering glare.

“Peter, you aren’t helping,” Derek huffed out from underneath his still flailing sister, who had managed to clamber on top of his back as he rolled up and off the bed. “Go downstairs. It’s Christmas. No arguing,” Derek said, his no-nonsense tone enough to make everyone straighten up and head down the stairs without another word of complaint. Derek trailed behind everyone, Cora grinning triumphantly from her position on his back; but he didn’t miss the look of curiosity on Stiles’ face when he looked over his shoulder up at Derek as he went down the stairs.

Everyone gathered around the fire, which Scott immediately started stoking up from the barely glowing embers to something that actually gave off heat, warming the slightly chilly room. Presents were passed around, Boyd and Erica both acting as Santa, complete with matching fluffy, sequined hats that Lydia had supplied.

They knew that there wasn’t much time before everyone would have to go their separate ways; most of the pack all had other places to visit during the day. Derek looked up in surprise when he was handed a small pile of presents, eyes wide as he stared at the shiny mis-matched wrapping paper that covered gifts he hadn’t even been expecting.

“Well, can they start opening their gifts, Alpha?” Lydia asked with a smirk, and Derek nodded, distracted for a moment before he looked up and cleared his throat.

“Yeah. Yes. Open them.”

The sound of over a dozen hands ripping apart wrapping paper was chaotic and loud, and Derek felt his heart clench pleasantly in his chest at the memories that came to the surface. It would have been all too easy to slip back in time, relax into the daydream that his parents were still alive, and everything as it should have been. That Peter’s wife and their child were there, the baby having actually been born, would have been nearly seven years old by now. Laura would have been there, maybe with a husband or wife of her own. Derek blinks away the tears that come burning to his eyes and sniffs, looking up and locking eyes with Stiles almost automatically. The soft frown that came to Stiles’ face, the mouthed ‘you okay?’ made Derek hope, just maybe, that Stiles still cared. He nodded and offered a quick tight smile in return, before looking back down and ripping open his own presents, one by one.

The first one is a pair of hand wraps, Derek looked up at the Beta, who just smirked at him from his spot beside Erica on the couch. Of course Boyd would get him the hand wraps after their lengthy talk about their mutual love and respect for boxers and muay thai. Derek smiled and set them aside, making a mental note to put aside some time to break them in with Boyd later on in the week.

The next gift was an old style shaving kit, complete with brush, soap dish, shaver, and leather strap for sharpening. Derek looked up from the beautifully wrapped package and felt his cheeks heat up as Lydia arched a perfectly shaped brow at him. “What? You need to shave more. You look like the brawny guy. No one like stubble burn Derek.”

Stiles choked on his hot cocoa, and Scott had to clap him gently on the back, the awkward silence that settled over the room afterward leaving Derek with a sinking feeling.

“Thanks,” he murmured, and Lydia sniffed out a ‘Welcome’, before returning to the bath set that Allison had bought her.

The next few presents were conventional, but still incredibly sweet. A set of warm, hand knit socks from Isaac, a book from Erica, another from Cora, and a third from Allison, all by Christopher Moore. Derek looked up from the trio of books at Stiles, who merely smiled sheepishly; it was more than obvious who had spilled the beans on Derek’s love affair with the author. The next present was from Peter, which, embarrassingly, Derek was both insulted and thankful for. He knew the ‘parenting for dummies’ book was going to come in handy, now that his pack had grown to twice its original size. Scott’s present turned out to be a DVD of a movie that Derek had mentioned in passing, months ago, a copy of ‘The Sandlot’ that he’d been unable to find in stores anywhere since returning to Beacon Hills. It was Derek’s favorite movie, and he’d missed being able to just throw his copy in the VCR and play it whenever he felt down.

 “I don’t…thank you. I’m sorry- I just, I got you guys sweaters,” he mumbled, frowning down at the pile of carefully thought out presents.

“You’re welcome, Derek,” Peter drawled, as Derek looked around the room, stunned to notice that every single one of them had pulled on their sweaters. The room was a hodge-podge of deep gem tones, Lydia in a gorgeous teal, Scott in a burgundy, Isaac in emerald. Even Stiles had pulled on his sweater, a bright red one with a hood, the ‘little red riding hood’ pun too bad for Derek to resist when he saw it. He smiled then, so wide his cheeks hurt, and let out a happy surprised laugh when an impromptou pack pile was instigated by Cora and Erica climbing onto Derek’s lap.

Cider was passed out after Lydia and Allison managed to untangle themselves, and Scott put ‘The Sandlot’ on the TV, everyone curling back up on the couches and pillow nest on the floor, blankets tucked around bodies and heads pillowed on laps. Derek hesitates on the edges, but stops when Stiles clears his throat from the hallway.

“Derek? I wanted to give you your gift.”

Derek blinked, surprised; he hadn’t been expecting anything from Stiles at all. Stiles being willing to come home was present enough for him.

“What? Stiles, you didn’t-“

“Yeah, yeah, just- come on.”

Stiles led the way out onto the back porch, where it was a little quieter, and the noise from the TV and the happy chatter of their pack mates faded as the door shut. Derek turned to Stiles, once more stunned by how much the boy had grown up in the past few years. The baby fat was completely gone now, replaced with lean muscle that made Derek’s entire body go simultaneously rigid and lax. Derek swallowed around the lump in his throat, suddenly nervous to even open his mouth, lest he say something he would immediately regret.

“I, I didn’t want to give this to you in there,” Stiles mumbled, taking a small box out of his pocket. The box was long and thin, and light weight as Derek took it. “It’s not much, but it’s something I got for you, before, y’know.” Derek looked up from the simple shiny green wrapping paper in time to see Stiles shrug, the blush going all the way from Stiles’ ears down his neck underneath the sweater.

Derek carefully opened the wrapping paper, as if the paper itself was a treasure, sliding a nail under the clear tape to do as little damage as possible. Stiles bounced slightly on his feet, fidgeting, before finally letting out a heavy sigh and snatching the box back.

“For fucks sakes Derek,” he said, the smile on his face betraying his words. Stiles handed the box back once the paper was gone, the cherry wood box engraved on top with a familiar symbol.

“A triskele,” Derek murmured, letting his fingers trace the symbol that was carved into the wood. He smiled softly, eyes flickering up to look at Stiles, who smiled back just as hesitantly. “Yeah, I know it, it’s special. So I had this made, last summer.”

Derek swallowed again, nodding, and carefully opened the box. A simple leather band rested inside, a cuff, two inches in width, with a metal rectangle riveted to it. There was a simple engraving on the metal, and Derek froze in place when he read what it said.

**_‘_ ** **_Love has no ending’_ **

Derek yanked his gaze up at Stiles, who was even brighter red than he’d been before, and opened his mouth. No words came out, everything was trapped inside him, caught behind a tight throat that refused to let anything forth. It wanted to ask Why? Why give me this, why torment me with hope like this, why Stiles, WHY?!

But nothing came out.

Stiles frowned after a long moment of Derek’s awkward silence, and cleared his own throat.

“If you don’t want it, I can take it back, Derek-“

“NO!”

They both jumped at Derek’s shout, startled at the loud noise in the otherwise silent morning. Somewhere nearby in the woods, a crow cried, and small creatures scurried away through the underbrush, Derek’s outburst scaring more than just the two men on the back porch.

“No, Stiles- no, I-I want it. I love it, thank you.”

He quickly put it on, shoving the quiver in his stomach down and away as the memory of Stiles reading him poetry came back, W.H. Auden, the words like caresses up his spine as Stiles’ voice soothed him.
    
    
    As I walked out one evening,

   Walking down Bristol Street,

The crowds upon the pavement

   Were fields of harvest wheat.

 

And down by the brimming river

   I heard a lover sing

Under an arch of the railway:

   'Love has no ending.

 

'I'll love you, dear, I'll love you

   Till China and Africa meet,

And the river jumps over the mountain

   And the salmon sing in the street,

 

'I'll love you till the ocean

   Is folded and hung up to dry

And the seven stars go squawking

   Like geese about the sky.

 

'The years shall run like rabbits,

   For in my arms I hold

The Flower of the Ages,

   And the first love of the world.'

 

They never got to the end of the poem, Derek being too impatient to capture Stiles’ mouth with his own, the book pushed to the end of the bed, forgotten as they lost themselves in one another.

Derek secured the cuff around his wrist and turned it over, the inscription stark against the rest of the metal, tarnished black.

“I love it,” he said again, and watched with pleasure as Stiles smiled, the expression for the first time since he’d come home, actually reaching his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The knock on the door startled them both, and they turned to see Cora standing there, eyebrow arched and lips pursed as she mouthed ‘coming back inside?’ at them. Derek nodded, and quickly shut and pocketed the box, hesitating only a second before reaching out to pull Stiles into a hug. Stiles was stiff for a moment, body unyielding against Derek’s warm bulk; it only took another moment for him to relax though, to melt and mold his body against Derek’s own, arms sliding around to wrap themselves secure around Derek’s waist.

“I missed you,” Stiles mumbled against Derek’s chest, the words achingly soft, his voice wavering as he spoke. Derek tightened his hold on Stiles, pressed his lips into the boy’s green apple smelling hair.

“I missed you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poem in this chapter by W.H. Auden, As I Walked Out One Evening.


End file.
